Daughter of the Sun
by Mischief's Angel
Summary: After the fall of the Galactic Empire, the vast crime syndicate known as The Black Sun was said to have been destroyed. Hidden in the shadows of the galaxy, it survived. The fractured organization is unified under a new ruler: Princess Xhira of the Falleen. This new empress of organized crime has buried the truth of her identity. Her secrets lie in the hands of only one: Kylo Ren.
1. Prologue

During the reign of the Empire, the galaxy was forced into order. Innumerable lives were lost, planets conquered, and whole civilizations utterly wiped from existence. Many planets could not muster the strength to recover from the devastation. Even when the Empire fell, many of the fractured systems still splintered apart. Many of those who did not have the strength to resist Imperial control joined them out of fear and the instincts of preservation. Others who would not resist the Empire saw...opportunity.

The galaxy's largest system of organized crime was united under one banner: The Black Sun. This crime syndicate spread to every corner, every crevice, and every shadow of the galaxy. Only one knew for certain just how far the reach was. Only the Emperor of the Black Sun knew all of its secrets. Knowledge is power, and the Falleen Prince Xizor did not share power. He ruled over the underworld with an iron fist, surviving by allowing his organization to bend to the will of the Empire. The decision to conform seemed a weakness at first; as the profits of war flooded into the syndicate, Xizor's clever work became apparent. He would profit how he could from the Empire, then, before it inevitably collapsed, pull away to reap the rewards without the fall. No military organization stayed in power forever. Empires rise and fall, and the Black Sun had been there to see all of them. The Black Sun had outlasted all of them.

When the Empire fell at the hands of the Rebel Alliance, the New Republic took its place in the seat of power. The Republic was satisfied, in the years to follow, that it had cleared the galaxy of the Empire and the organizations that supported it. Criminal organizations were cut down. A new order of peace was established. The thing about peace is, like an empire, it cannot last. The Black Sun allowed the Republic to cut and hack away at its allies, resources, and branches of operation. Whatever was expendable was fed to this new order to satisfy the core worlds. The Republic was told that the entire operation was destroyed.

The Republic was lied to.

Prince Xizor escaped the Jedi Master who served under the flag of the rebellion. With him, the Black Sun survived. The organization vanished into the shadows of the galaxy once more, biding time and repairing wounds, until they could once more be strong. Even now, they lie in wait, feeding on the galaxy like a parasite. They leech resources, steal what they wish, and destroy lives, further festering the wounds that the Empire created. Underneath it all, the treachery of Prince XIzor runs deeper than the galaxy knows. Yet, I know. I know all of this for my family has watched it happen.

By my kind, civilizations have risen and fallen. As always, we will outlast.

I am Xhira of the Black Sun, empress of shadow ruling from beneath a broken galaxy. I am one of the last of my kind, as most of my kind has been destroyed. I am the heir to a broken world that no one sees and none wish to remember. I was not always so. I was born into a different life, a different family, and a different name. All who knew my secrets have been eliminated, save for one. Only one soul lives who knows the truth of who and what I am. My greatest weakness lies in the hands of the ruthless commander of the First Order: Kylo Ren.


	2. Chapter 1

Prince Xizor is dead.

Word of the tragedy spread like wildfire through the ranks of his organizations. His followers, spread across the galaxy and increasingly fewer in number, were united by once more by his death. It was not mourning that brought them together, nor was it the shock of how their leader had died. No, it was a question that drew them together. With Xizor gone, who would his power and wealth fall to. After decades of thwarting attempts on the prince's life, his crumbling empire had finally failed him. Xizor was assassinated. The attacker, though quickly apprehended, was no use to any type of investigation. The assassin had not survived, deciding that death was a more merciful end than betraying his employers.

At his best, Prince Xizor held the wealth and power of countless planets. His business empire spread across the galaxy, bringing him more wealth and property than one could ever use in a lifetime. Even now, after being fractured by the New Republic, the wealth he maintained was more than most could dream of. That was why his death drew such attention. Every criminal, black market trader, or assassin under Xizor's banner, and many under those of his enemies, watched eagerly to see where the money would end up. Granting an inheritance such as that was a death sentence, turning every last assassin's weapon toward the unlucky soul who was now worth a half a system.

For this reason, the funeral was a private affair, granting entrance to only the most trusted of Xizor's inner circle, his private guard, and his named heir. It was only these select few that knew of the inherited rule. Princess Xhira would take her father's place. Even now, as she walked before the small procession, draped in black with her solemn face veiled, she visibly carried the weight of that burden. The funeral was a bleak and quiet affair. The reverent silence seemed more for the Princess's behalf than for the fallen leader. Even the gold embellishments laid over her draped mourning dress made no sounds as she walked. A normally strong and proud presence, hidden beneath a darkened shroud. All paid quiet respect to the figure, save for one.

Captain Dae'la Korva, a trusted friend and advisor to the Princess, watched the procession with an uneasy gaze. The twi'lek pirate scanned her eyes across the room time and time again, unhappy with the results of her search. Shaking her head slightly, she lowered her gaze to match that of the others who stared at the elaborately tiled ground in a false mourning.

The entirety of the palace courtyard was more lavishly decorated than usual. The whole event seeming to reflect the late prince's wealth and station. Those in the procession seemed decorated to match, slowly leading the large casket toward the transport that would take it to receive a proper burial near the Falleen's family.

As they drew nearer to the small crowd of trusted allies, Korva stepped forward and bowed her head respectfully toward the princess.

"My condolences for your loss," she said in a low, calm voice.

The veiled Falleen princess nodded in a respectful return of the gesture but said nothing. She continued on as Korva stepped back away from the processional.

 _I knew it,_ Korva thought, trying to mask her irritated sigh as best she could. She excused herself from the remainder of the ceremony, claiming some excuse about the tragedy being too much to bear. In truth, she didn't care for elaborate ceremonies. Dead was dead. She left because she had other problems that needed her attention right now.

The vibroblades in Xhira's hands whirred in anger as they slashed through the metal armoring of the attack droid. The second of the attackers came at her from the side, barely entering her peripheral sight before she freed one of the blades from the first and sent it cutting through the air, making its landing between two plates in the torso of the second. The droid stumbled back, trying to adjust for the sparking circuitry in its core. The first toppled to the ground, head rolling separately down first, then the body after. There were two left. Xhira marked their locations and movements carefully. She ripped the blade from the second, wielding one in each fist once again. The third came up quickly behind her. Listening to its movements and trying to sense its position, she blocked a blow from behind, ducking down to sweep the metal legs from the ground. Her vision turned red as her continued attack fed her anger. She quickly adjusted, positioning herself over the fallen droid. Turning the blades down in her hand, stabbing, slicing, and tearing at her attacker, until sparks flew from the spasming tangle of metal. She heard a movement behind her that she had not noticed until it was nearly too late. Before she could react, the white hot bold from a blaster sizzled close enough for her to feel the heat. After that, the smell of molten metal was followed by a loud crash.

Xhira turned to see the second droid, fallen from where it had stood dangerously close to her. Now, it laid still on the ground, a glowing red hole bored through the side of its head. Her attention followed the path of the blast over the the smoking pistol in the hand of her visitor.

Captain Korva stood in the doorway, blaster in hand, with an stoic expression. She blew the smoke from the end of the heated pistol before reholstering it at her side.

"You're welcome."

"I had this under control," Xhira insisted.

"Don't you always." The reply had come in a scoff as Korva assessed the damage to the drones laid out on the ground. "You're going through three a day now? They're meant to be a challenge."

"Challenges are meant for overcoming."

"It's a real _wonder_ why none of your guards will train you anymore."

Xhira deactivated the blades in her hands, waiting for the soft whirring to stop before she tossed them aside. Brushing herself off, she walked over toward the twi'lek.

"What did you need, Dae'la? I assume you didn't just come here to prove your aim."

"It's one thing to have a decoy at your own father's funeral, Xhira," Korva sighed, leiku swaying slightly as she shook her head above her crossed arms, "But to not even show up? How does that look for you?"

"The goal of the decoy is so no one will know I'm not there. I can't change that the monster was my father. I accept that. That doesn't mean I'll waste any more of my time trying to play dutiful child."

Korva paused for a long moment, taking a deep breath as if to deliver bad news.

"They named you the legal heir. You're getting everything."

"I know. I've already accepted."

"You do realize that's insanity, don't you? Someone was after Xizor. Don't you think they'll be after you next?"

"I know they will be," Xhira answered with the confidence of one entering a battle they have no chance of losing, "It will make it so much easier to find them if they come to me, don't you think?"

Korva followed the princess as she walked into the hallway and away from the wreckage of the sparring room. She walked quickly to match the strides of the Falleen, falling in step beside her.

"Have you given any more thought to-" she began. Xhira's sudden stop put a pause on her words.

"My answer is no, Dae'la."

"Reconsider, Xhira," the captain suggested earnestly, "Now that you are the head of your father's syndicate, no one will question your authority. You have earned this title. With it, we could do so much."

"I know what you want of me, but I will not do business with such a group. They act as though they were some form of military strength, when the truth is the opposite. They're a handful of scrappy rogues with blasters, trying to save the galaxy with some ancient power they cannot wield." Xhira turned to face her friend directly. "I wish things were different, Dae'la, but this is a war now. There are enough sights on us already. I will not turn the guns of the First Order against us as well."

"Not even to spite Kylo Ren?"

Xhira scoffed out a bitter laugh at the mention. "That nightmare is not my problem. All I need is to stay in the good graces of whoever is holding his leash. Upsetting him is tempting, but not enough to risk the lives of our own."

They walked on to Xhira's rooms, walking through the guards at the door. Dae'la acted as though she planned to leave the matter alone, but a question gnawed ceaselessly at her mind. She couldn't drop the matter just yet.

"Xhira...why _do_ you hate that man so much?"


	3. Chapter 2

**Sorry that I haven't updated this project in some time. This is primarily due to the fact that I wasn't sure this fic would be continued. It was a trial run, so to speak. If anyone likes the story and is interested in reading more, let me know.**

 **Thanks to those of you who gave it a try.**

 **~Mischief's Angel**

* * *

" _Xhira...why do you hate that man so much?"_

The answer remained unspoken, yet it still echoed within Xhira's mind. It was no secret to those few close to her that she held a certain bitterness in her heart aimed like a knife at the Master of the Knights of Ren. The reason why was hidden in a near-forgotten place within her, even from the confidence of her favored captain and dearest friend.

No matter how she tried, she could never forget the offense which had caused such a resentment. Kylo Ren had ruthlessly murdered the only person she had ever loved. As cliched and naive as the reason felt, she would never forgive him for the pain she had suffered. She was, however, _thankful_ for it. In that pain, she learned to steel over her scars, pushing aside childish things like love and hope. They were fragile, unreliable, and too often false.

After all, the New Republic had _hoped_ that the Empire was destroyed. Yet even know, cities fell in fear as the shadows of star destroyers and the roar of Imperial grade fighters covered them. The First Order claimed to be different. Only the willingly ignorant believed them, turning their faces away from the white-clad soldiers and the blood red pennants of war.

It was all the same to the Black Sun. War was profitable when manipulated correctly. Even now, Xhira sat at an elaborate vanity, readying her war paint for a miserable skirmish of power and position: A gala held to celebrate the First Order's newest additions to the fleet. Traditionally, the finalization of new ships, even as grand as those flying under the First Order's command, did not merit a celebration. That led way to a poorly disguised truth; there was another agenda for this "social" gathering. It was no matter. Attendance would be bent to serve Xhira's needs, regardless of the agendas and schemes of others.

She studied her completed appearance in the mirror before her, equipping her proud and confident air. It was always apparent in Xhira's very facial structure that she was not a pure-blooded Falleen. Where harsh, reptilian ridges of bone should have defined her forehead and temples, she had a nearly human face, the only exception being her high, sharp cheekbones which _did_ resemble her species. Her smooth temples and soft, rounded lips seemed to be a great advantage from her mixed heritage. Her hair was another sign; though it was as dark and black as her father's had been, it naturally fell in soft, graceful waves down over her shoulders and to her waist. The soft edge of her appearance would be hidden away for this event. There was a certain image she had to maintain to remind others that she was, indeed, Falleen. Her hair was straightened and pulled back to the crown of her head, falling in a long, silken stream behind her, decorated with a golden band at the top to keep every last strand in order. Cosmetics were applied to accentuate the sharpness of her features, with knife-sharp black liner accentuating severe amber-red eyes. A matching black was applied to her lips, the matte color giving the lines a harder look. Gold was dusted over the highlights of pale green skin, reminding her that her task for this evening was not to be a beautiful woman but a trophy on the guest list of a very vain target.

Adding jewels and a favorite black gown to the ensemble would further her chances. All she needed now was a powerful man, high off of his own accomplishments.

"My lady," Dae'la's voice chimed through the comm, "the transport is ready and waiting."

A true smirk bled into Xhira's false smile. This would be _fun._

With every step across the impossibly polished floors, the skirt of Xhira's gown flowed around her. A tall slit on either side teased a glimpse of long, toned legs. The upper back of the gown was itself only a few gold chains draped across from shoulder to shoulder, keeping the dress in place. She tried to focus on her surroundings, rather than the garish dress, yet the walls lined with armor-clad stormtroopers did little to satiate her hidden irritation.

As the doors head opened and some easily forgettable and stuffy sort of music flowed out, Xhira made a note to sway her hips a bit more with each step. It was not a full minute before she spotted the firey red hair that she was subtly searching for, surrounded by handshakes in gray and black uniforms.

Patience was key, she reminded herself, slipping gracefully around the room, making note of the one or two guests that she recognized as senators. That was always useful information to put away for another time. After a careful sprinkling of charming smiles and greetings, she grew tired of the waiting, taking two champagne glasses from a serving droid and sauntering to her intended prey. She stopped just behind him, faced toward the large viewport.

"General, she's beautiful!" she beamed, looking out at the newest addition to the First Order's toys: a dreadnaught that the Empire would have drooled over.

From the edge of her sight, she could see General Hux stiffen his posture slightly, clearing his throat and straightening his already pristine uniform jacket before turning toward her. He paused for a lengthy moment to study her appearance.

"Yes, of course," he agreed, speaking as though the ship's beauty were a given fact, simply because of whom it belonged to. He took a calculated moment before adding: "She's a sight second only to you, your highness."

Xhira sang out a graceful and flirtatious laugh, turning to face the general and offer him the second glass she carried.

"You flatter me, sir."

A bright smile was assigned to her face as she carefully and consciously spread a darker blush across her cheeks. Another advantage she had inherited from her Falleen genetics was the skillful manipulation of her own body's chemistry and pheromones; a highly useful skill in deceit...as well as some levels of seduction.

"I would bet that she's quite dangerous too."

"She is a military vessel, created to bring order. Order is not without its costs," Hux explained in a practiced manner, "Dangerous as she may be, the results are for the greater good."

She leaned in toward him, lowering her voice to a near whisper.

"Come now, Armitage. You know me better than to offer up that tired, old speech. I like _dangerous."_

She saw a glimmer of mischief shallowly buried beneath his proud smirk as he offered her his arm.

As the evening continued, she lingered there by the general's side, being introduced to names and ranks that she carefully filed away should they become relevant people to know. Truthfully, Hux didn't care whether or not she knew any of these people. He just relished the thought of being seen with so powerful an ally hanging dutifully on his meticulously pressed jacket sleeve. Every once in a while, she would feel his gaze travel over her as she spoke with others. Nothing would come of the looks without more effort on her part; this was far too proud a man to chase someone he felt ought to be crawling after him. He was primarily against the First Order's affiliation with the Black Sun, believing that the wretched hive of criminals had no place within his - or more truthfully Supreme Leader Snoke's - perfect order. That principle was always quickly forgotten when his only contact with the syndicate was Xhira. She could make him forget, just for a while, that she represented the deadlier side of his new order. Crime was a terrible necessity when funding such a beautiful fleet.

His eyes were not the only ones to linger on her a moment too long. She had long felt another gaze burning into her. This gaze was farther away, just beyond the lights of the observation deck, hidden away beneath a dark hood and behind a mask of black and silver; this was a gaze that no one dared to meet. As clearly as she felt the gaze, Xhira could feel the burning anger that it carried. It was a familiar sort of warmth, heating her blood much like the alcohol that she drained from her glass. There was something else there too. Something just beneath the anger. Something that felt like...jealousy.

 _Good._

Daring to turn her gaze, just enough to look from the side, she saw the massive shadow of a man quickly storm from the deck. Her smile pulled tighter at her lips. Turning back, setting her glass aside, and placing her freed hand also on Hux's arm, she flirtatiously whispered once more.

"I'm going for another drink. Don't run off, I'll be _right_ back."

He had only half heard her, as he had been busy in conversation with one of the newer destroyer's captains. It was all very technical and he had likely not expected her to share any interest anyway. It was the perfect reason to slip away.

Yes, it risked all of her hard work thus far, but she truly _was_ bored.

The heels of her needlessly elaborate shoes clicked lightly against the black floors; it was the only sound filling the empty corridor. She didn't know exactly where it was that she was wandering, simply following the dark warmth that crept up her spine into the back of her neck. She was startled by the hiss of an unseen doorway sliding open. Instinctively reaching down to feel the thin blade concealed against the back of her thigh, she stepped toward the door. High slits in dresses had another use in her opinion: quick access.

Not quick enough, she soon realized, as a gloved hand shot out of the darkness, pulling her inside. The door hissed shut behind her and the other hand was quickly over her mouth to prevent any sounds of alarm. The anger that she had felt before was now close enough to nearly burn into her skin. She felt it radiate off of the shadow standing just a breath behind her.

A warm breath on the side of her neck accompanied by the sound of a deep and undistorted voice betrayed that the helmet she had seen before was abandoned.

"Princess Xhira."

She lifted the gloved hand from her face; it lowered with no struggle.

"Commander Ren."

She was spun quickly, barely given enough time to see the dark, mischievous smirk on a familiar face before lips were fervently pressed against hers.


End file.
